#47. Lend Me Some Money
And then the woman lowered her gaze. Idren couldn’t tell whether she was feeling down. The Ophelia he knew wasn’t the type to be upset over something like this, yet the shadow on her face looked just like sadness.
He asked the woman, who was looking down toward the fireplace in front of her.
“Did that perhaps upset you?”
“No.”
She wasn’t upset. She had just decided to ignore it, thinking it wasn’t something worth worrying about.
It was an honest response without any lies, yet the man seemed to be watching her reaction carefully. He added some words that sounded like excuses.
“I thought telling you something like that wouldn’t change anything. I would’ve had to deal with it anyway… Ah, that also sounds a bit off, doesn’t it?”
And with that, Idren fell silent. Ophelia glanced sideways at the man who was awkwardly embarrassed, even though there was no need to be.
“Still, you hoped I’d look after the castle while you were away at war.”
“…You knew?”
“I didn’t know at the time. I only found out after the war was over.”
To be precise, it was his financial advisor who had come and told her.
Ophelia still remembered the words of the man—Hazel’s cousin, whose name she now had memorized perfectly.
“The lord manages everything on his own during peacetime. You can’t just sit back and do nothing during wartime as well.”
Ophelia remembered the man’s brown eyes, filled with hostility toward her. He had been polite, but his entire demeanor made it clear that he didn’t respect her.
She had never wished for anyone’s respect, so she had only asked the man one thing.
“Then what should I do?”
And while she had inwardly hoped that her husband’s financial advisor would answer her, he had said nothing.
Only later did Ophelia realize that when the lord was absent, it was only natural for the spouse to manage the castle. While the aide who was usually by his side might handle things in other times, during wartime, it was her responsibility.
But by then, it was too late. From that day on, Idren never left the castle again.
In hindsight, she felt a bit wronged. Sitting down on the chair beside him, Ophelia spoke to the man who seemed to be watching her carefully.
“Why don’t you just say what you want? You confuse people by not speaking up.”
Idren looked a bit startled by her sudden irritation but apologized right away.
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t something he needed to apologize for, which only made his apology feel awkward. Ophelia turned her head away from the man who was apologizing even though she hadn’t expected it—especially when he always insisted on his opinions in other situations.
“Forget it. If we’re being honest, it’s my fault.”
At the time, she hadn’t known much about politics or about Idren, so she had treated it as someone else’s problem. But looking back now, she realized it shouldn’t have been handled that way.
When the ruler was absent, it was the spouse’s responsibility to manage what happened in the meantime.
Idren must have thought she’d at least know that much and hadn’t felt the need to mention it.
So if there was any fault, it was hers—for accepting everything at face value without thinking deeply.
Ophelia realized that her way of thinking had changed completely.
Before, she wouldn’t have cared what her silent husband said or didn’t say. But now, she had even come all the way to his room just to match his words.
Maybe it was because she had been healthy lately. Somehow, her routine in this life had ended up being managed by Idren, who—surprisingly—was meticulous in taking care of people.
By following his routine of timely meals and proper sleep, she now had the energy to be this proactive.
Also, since she believed this relationship would end within three years, she was more inclined to go along with things.
Before her thoughts could deepen further, Ophelia picked up the poker she had set down earlier. She stirred the already well-burning fire again.
“From now on, if you want something from me, just say it directly. Got it?”
“I understand.”
Then Idren gently wrapped his hand around hers, the one holding the poker. He whispered softly, concerned about sparks flying out, and gently took the poker from her hand.
Ophelia watched as he skillfully rearranged the firewood in the fireplace and then leaned the poker on his side. He seemed worried that she might pick it up again and do something dangerous.
Her hand, which he had touched, felt oddly tingly. Ophelia pulled it inward.
“So why did you bring up Brynwell?”
“I heard that Brynwell is planning to send a delegation to the wedding. If we allow that, it could cause trouble, so I discussed it with Salodé.”
Then Idren explained the situation to her in a way that was easy to understand. Ophelia listened as he compared the current events with those of her past life, speaking in a calm, steady tone.
After the concise explanation, Idren added, as if concluding:
“I’ve already gone through this once, so this time I’m thinking about which choice will cause the least damage.”
Ophelia, who had been listening quietly, asked,
“So the goal is to stop the ship from reaching the harbor, right?”
“Well, yes, but… do you have a good idea?”
She did have one. Whether or not this man would agree with it was another matter.
But in the end, wasn’t achieving the goal all that mattered? In this world, the outcome was all that was remembered.
Ophelia spoke to the man who might finally recognize her competence.
“Lend me some money.”
* * *
“…Are you really not going to tell me who you’re meeting?”
Late at night inside the carriage, Idren asked the woman sitting across from him. Ophelia nodded with a tired expression.
“Just trust me this once, will you?”
Then she added,
“If you’re really that uneasy, you can go back.”
That was nonsense. Idren immediately shot back,
“How could I let you go alone when we don’t know what might happen?”
“You even assigned knights to me. How is that going alone?”
Realizing the edge in her voice, Idren closed his mouth. Regardless, he didn’t want to make her angry. Even though she was the one making him uneasy.
Last night, Ophelia had suddenly asked him for money. It was the first time she had said such a thing, but Idren had given her the jewels she requested without question.
“I’ll pay you back later.”
To the woman who wanted to do something unexpected, Idren had said there was no need. Since he had brought her to Aglante, it was his duty to support whatever she wanted to do.
The next morning had been incredibly busy, and Idren had forgotten about it entirely. It had been a while since he’d left the castle, so there was much to take care of.
He would’ve likely continued to forget—if Ophelia hadn’t suddenly announced that night that she was going to Galisa’s 7th district.
He had just finished his day’s work and entered the dining room when she immediately said,
“I’m going out for a bit.”
Since they weren’t even officially married yet, there was no way she had someone to meet, so Idren naturally asked where she was going. Ophelia replied that she’d tell him in private.
Later, when they were alone after dinner and she told him her destination, Idren understood why she had been so discreet.
“I’m going to the 7th district of Galisa.”
Hearing that, Idren instinctively asked what she meant.
Though the area’s security had improved, Galisa was a large port city with several mixed zones, and the 7th district was one of them. Its atmosphere changed drastically between day and night, and regular citizens usually avoided it after dark.
Especially for someone like Ophelia—high-born and unfamiliar with the dangers of the world—it was a risky place even in broad daylight with guards around.
And now, she wanted to go there after sundown, in a regular carriage no less, not a royal one. Any rational person would have tried to stop her.
Idren did exactly that.
But in the end, all he learned was that if Ophelia decided to do something, there was no stopping her.
Still, there was no way he could let her go there alone. So Idren insisted on accompanying her.
Ophelia thought he was overreacting—“You really think I never went to the 7th district even once when I was governor of Galisa?”—but she didn’t refuse his company.
Yet, the closer they got to the 7th district, the stronger Idren’s conviction became that she shouldn’t be here.
Looking out the window with a composed expression, Ophelia didn’t look nervous at all. Idren tried to persuade her again.
“I don’t know what business you have here, but let me go instead. You can stay in the carriage—”
“We’re here.”
And with that, Ophelia knocked on the carriage wall and pulled her hood down. Idren, also pulling down his hood, followed her out of the carriage.
As he reached out to help her step down, Idren signaled to the knights who had followed behind the carriage to lie in wait nearby.
They had arrived in front of a loud tavern. Yellowish lights and boisterous noise spilled from the building. Standing there, Idren thought to himself—am I dreaming?
He had been to places like this before, but never in his life had he imagined coming here with Ophelia.
As his brain struggled to reconcile reality, Ophelia spoke.
“My memory isn’t the most reliable, but… I think this is the place.”
And before he could respond, she opened the tavern door.
